“Anytime, Scherer!” grunted Richter.
“Its blood isn’t harmful, just the skin!” said Talvan, clearing the door and backing into the passenger compartment.
“Oh, great.”
Richter freed his right arm long enough to draw Ari’s Rakhar battle blade from his belt and jam it into the Zendra’s mouth. The insectoid jumped away, removing the weapon from it’s maw as if it were a toothpick. John fired his pistol five times, with four shots bisecting the Zendra’s head and the fifth missing only because the creature had fallen away. The errant shot ricocheted around the compartment but hit no one.
“Are you all right?” John asked of Richter.
“I think so. My left arm feels kind of funny.”
“It’s the Zendreen poison,” said Talvan. “He needs medical attention immediately.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” said John.
Richter picked up his blade. “We’ll worry about that later.”
John heard a voice that sounded like it was on the other end of the Holland Tunnel.
“John, this is Dana. We’ve got four more aircraft and two ground vehicles converging on this point. How’s it going?”
“We’re exfilling now,” replied John into his radio.
Aldebaran stuck his head into the passenger compartment.
“I tagged three more out here,” he said. “I think that’s all of ‘em.”
“Let’s go!”
John and Richter retrieved their rifles and helped Talvan to the exterior. They joined Aldebaran and ran for the Faith. In the sky above, Fernwyn continued to tangle with Zendreen aircraft. When they were ten meters from the ramp, Ray’s fifty-cal suddenly rotated away from them and fired down the road. The noise was unbearable and both human and Umberian epithets were lost to the cacophony. John glimpsed some sort of armored vehicle at the end of the road before he sprinted up the ramp and into the cargo bay.
“We’re aboard, get the hell out of here!” yelled Richter.
Aldebaran hit the button to close the ramp. The ground began to draw away, and the last of the APC they saw was Nathalier perforating it with the port laser bank. The embattled vehicle exploded with a satisfying report.
“I could use a little help up here,” said Fernwyn over the com.
“Talvan has been retrieved,” answered John. “Disengage and break atmosphere.”
“Fine by me.”
John put his Phalanx on the deck and ran over to Richter. He’d slumped against the stair rail and looked exhausted.
“Are you okay?” said John.
“The Zendra’s skin is covered with a nerve agent,” began Talvan, rushing over, “if your species is the same as us, it’s going to prevent his muscles from switching off their nerve receptors. You need an anti-convulsion agent.”
“Get the military kit,” said Richter.
“Right,” said John, and exited aft.
“You didn’t drop dead immediately,” said Talvan. “That’s a good sign.”
“I’m like a bad cold,” mumbled Richter, slumping onto the stairs. “I like to linger.”
The ship continued to vibrate as all of its weapon systems were engaged. The main plasma cannon sounded like the engine braking of an eighteen-wheeler, only several decibels louder. Over the com, Dana, Christie, and Ray were celebrating each time they scored another kill. Aldebaran looked on via the cargo bay monitor with detached professionalism.
A moment later, John returned with a small olive drab pouch. He knelt by Richter and withdrew two auto-injectors. Richter took the first one. His nose was running and he was drooling despite his efforts to conceal that fact.
“You sure?” asked John.
Richter spoke as if he was quoting a military manual verbatim. “Atropine. Place the needle end of the ejector against your outer thigh muscle...”
Richter injected himself with the first syringe. There was a snap and a hissing sound. He held it in place for ten seconds and then discarded it. He accepted the second injector from John but dropped it on the deck.
“Allow me,” said John.
“Diazepam chloride,” mumbled Richter. “Use the other... use the other leg.”
John did so. Richter seemed to relax. John scanned his face furtively.
“What now?” he asked.
“If I start doing the funky chicken,” replied Richter, “adminis... admin... give me another kit.”
“Are you sure?”
Richter nodded and swooned.
“Don’t let him pass out!” said Aldebaran.
John slapped Richter in the face. “Hey, Chance, stay with me, buddy.”
“Just talk to me,” said Richter, making eye contact. “Anything.”
“Okay. Remember the time we first met? We’d just rescued Ari from you and Devonai. We asked Dana to guard you, with your weapon.”
“I heard about it later. Dana had her finger on the trigger, safety off. Four pounds of pressure and bye-bye Chance Richter, CIA.”
“We hadn’t taught her proper weapon handling skills yet.”
The cargo bay shook with the resounding report of the plasma cannon.
“I think she got the hang of it.”
25.
“How’s Richter doing?”
John stepped aside from the doorway to his quarters and allowed Dana to enter. She tip-toed around the gear and weapons that John had spread out across the floor to dry, and sat down at his desk. John resumed donning the dry shirt he had over his arms.
“It looks like he’s going to be okay,” replied Dana. “He’s resting in his quarters.”
“That’s good,” said John, and snapped his fingers next to his head.
“Something wrong?”
“I’m still deaf in my right ear.”
“What about the left?”
“I was wearing the translation unit in my left ear. It protected me from the gunfire.”
“Handy.”
John sat down on his bed. “You did an amazing job down there, Dana.”
“Thanks. It would have been a lot more fun if I didn’t have team members running around on the surface. The Zendreen aircraft weren’t much of a match for Fernwyn and I.”
“Don’t get overconfident. The satellites were something to be reckoned with, if you recall.”
“Good thing we were able to zip right by them this time.”
“Did they spot Fernwyn on our way out?”
Dana smiled. “They sure did, but we exited their range too quickly for them to pose a risk to her.”
John put on a pair of slippers and stood up. “Good. Let’s call a meeting. I want to... hey, who’s flying the ship?”
“Aldebaran.”
“Dana, I told you I don’t trust him with the controls right now!”
“John, he’s not going to turn the ship around or anything. We’re just flying in a straight line until Fernwyn can dock. Besides, we don’t have an autopilot anymore and my arms are killing me.”
“Come on.”
John entered the hallway, let Dana pass him, and closed the door. Christie and Nathalier were seated in the lounge area, and stood up upon seeing John.
“Good job, you two,” said John. “Where are Talvan and Ray?”
“After they got some dry clothes they went down to the galley,” said Christie.
John crossed to a computer console and activated the intercom. “This is Scherer. All crew to the bridge.”
John led the group through the conference room and onto the bridge. Aldebaran was seated in the pilot’s chair with his feet propped up on the console. His jacket was draped over a nearby chair and he hadn’t changed out of his wet clothing. Through the window to the right, Fernwyn’s ship could be seen pacing the Faith.
“How’s it going, Aldebaran?” queried John.
“All quiet. Still no sign of pursuit.”
“Aren’t you going to get into some dry clothes?”
“Hadn’t thought about it.”
“You�
��re about my size. Go to my quarters and help yourself, then get back here.”
“I’ll do so after the meeting.”
“Fine.”
Sitting at the next station, John opened a frequency to Fernwyn. “Rylie, this is Scherer. What’s your status?”
Fernwyn’s image appeared on the monitor. “Not bad. This thing is going to need a new paint job, though.”
Ray and Talvan entered the bridge. Talvan was wearing a fluffy green bathrobe.
“Christie,” said John, “take your station and coordinate Fernwyn’s docking. Rylie, prepare to come aboard.”
“Understood.”
Christie nodded and sat down. John offered a seat to Talvan. The older Umberian’s expression was grave, and he stared at the deck. John furrowed his brow at Talvan’s bearing.
“Is Richter going to be all right?” asked Aldebaran.
“Seems that way,” replied John. “He’s resting now. Okay, anybody else have any concerns or comments? No? Then let’s get down to business. Professor Talvan, welcome to the Reckless Faith. I believe you’ve met everyone except Nathalier.”
“Hi,” said Nathalier.
“I hope Stackpole will fare well,” said Talvan.
“This is the best way for you to help him,” said John. “Tell us about the virus you’ve been working on.”
“It attacks the carapace of the Zendreen. Ideally it will reduce the shell’s strength so much that any attempt at physical activity will cause them to rip themselves apart. I’ve been working with a virus that causes a similar condition in certain Umberian beetles, but the problem is that it relies on oxygen to survive. It circulates so quickly in the beetles that this isn’t a problem, but in the much larger Zendreen it will spend too much time in the bloodstream. The virus won’t survive without oxygen for that length of time. I’ve been attempting to genetically modify the virus to attach to oxygen-bearing blood cells in Zendreen, but I need better lab equipment to do so.”
“Wait a minute,” said Dana, “where are we going to get samples of the base virus?”
“I injected myself with it. It’s the best hiding place. It’s harmless to Umberians, but like I said it can’t survive in the bloodstream anyway. However, the virus can be recultured after it’s taken out of a blood sample. Now are you sure we can’t go to Residere Beta? The best equipment is there.”
“Fernwyn’s aboard,” said Christie. “I’m just repressurizing the cargo bay.”
“Good, thanks,” said John. “There’s no way, Talvan. I’ll fill you in on our adventure up until now after this meeting, but suffice it to say that going back to Beta is out of the question right now. The Solar United Faction is trying to blame us for destroying the Umberian System Way Station in order to avoid war with the Zendreen, even though the Zendreen are the ones who destroyed it. It’s a brilliant ploy on the part of the Zendreen to gain the SUF’s cooperation in hunting us down.”
“We can’t prove that the Zendreen suggested our culpability to the SUF,” said Christie.
“They wouldn’t have had to suggest anything to them. We’re the most obvious scapegoat. If I was the SUF I would have reached the same conclusion. It’s also irrelevant whether or not the SUF actually believes we destroyed the station. In fact, they probably do believe us. Avoiding war with the Zendreen trumps all of that.”
“So the SUF is a bunch of duplicitous backstabbers,” said Talvan. “What else is new?”
“Umber should have never joined the faction,” said Aldebaran. “When Umber regains it’s former glory, the SUF will rue the day it betrayed us.”
“I beg your pardon? Even if we do expel the Zendreen from our planet we won’t be able to declare war on an elementary school, never mind the SUF. I’m mad as hell at the SUF for what they did, but we’re going to have to find a way to ignore our pride and ask for their help. With the Zendreen out of the picture, they might actually help us rebuild our infrastructure. You don’t know how bad things have gotten, Aldebaran. The home you remember is gone forever.”
Fernwyn entered the bridge.
“Did I miss anything?” she asked.
“We’re just discussing how royally fucked we are,” said John.
“Oh, cool.”
Talvan stood up and walked over to Fernwyn.
“A Residerian genmod,” he said, “with Kau’Rii genes. When I heard your name mentioned I wondered if you were the same one I’d heard about before the war.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“You’ve heard of her?” asked Dana.
“I’m a bit of a celebrity in scientific circles,” replied Fernwyn.
“What’s your stake in all of this?” Talvan asked, returning to his seat.
“I want to make sure that the Residere government gets the truth about what’s going on, not the SUF’s spin on it.”
“They’d hardly be inclined to listen to you right now, from what I understand.”
“If we can defeat the Zendreen we’ll probably earn another chance.”
“What we need to worry about right now,” said John, “is where we’re going to find the lab equipment we need. Aldebaran, you said you know of a place?”
Aldebaran nodded. “There’s a pirate enclave on Macer Alpha. It’s a self-contained series of structures independent of any government or law. There’s a Z'Sorth there who has the best laboratory I’ve seen next to the one on the USWS. The only problem is that he’s completely insane. The last I heard he was trying to synthesize a sentient being of pure energy out of fruit.”
“Will he let us use his equipment?” asked Talvan.
“I don’t know. We’ll just have to ask.”
“Will we be welcome at this place?” asked John.
“I’m still Aldebaran. I can practically guarantee that nobody will mess with us down there.”
“Excellent. Set a course for Macer Alpha, then. In the meantime, everybody get some rest, eat some food, and think of a pirate name for yourself.”
“Aldebaran, can I talk to you alone?” Talvan asked, standing.
“I thought you might want to, Professor,” replied Aldebaran.
John shrugged. “Meeting adjourned, I guess. You two can use the conference room if you want.”
Aldebaran and Talvan exited into the conference room. John sat down in the pilot’s chair, then stood up again.
“Damn it, it’s all wet,” he said.
“John, are you sure you want those two talking to each other alone?” said Christie.
“Why not? We’re all on the same side here. They have some catching up to do, that’s all. I’m not so paranoid as to prevent them from speaking in private. They would have found a chance at another time anyway.”
Ray stood up. “Arr, RLaphroaigd McClewlin agrees with ye. Let the old salts catch up on their yarns.”
“RLaphroaigd McClewlin?”
In the conference room, Aldebaran crossed to the window. Talvan paced on the other side of the room for a moment, considering the other Umberian. He looked exactly like the first lieutenant Talvan had last seen on the USWS ten years ago. A decade of hard living had barely touched his youthful features. There was an edge to his expression, however, that was new to Talvan. Gone was the bright and hopeful officer, the willing participant in a bold new experiment. Gone also, and much to Talvan’s relief, was the vacant, impassive husk of a man that was left after Talvan and his colleagues ripped Aldebaran’s soul out of him. Seth became Umber’s last hope even as Aldebaran slipped away in the chaos that engulfed the system upon the Zendreen’s arrival. The fact that he’d become a pirate in the following years was a surprise to Talvan until he considered the ultimate goal of such raids. The only comment on his recombination made to Talvan since the rescue had been John’s “he’s neither Seth nor Aldebaran the pirate any more, only a full spectrum shadow of both.” An enigmatic statement, but wholly accurate as Talvan could now see for himself.
Certain details seemed like they’d happened yesterday; others were
dusty with age. Of one thing Talvan was certain: at one time they’d been friends.
“So they tell me you became a pirate after the invasion,” Talvan said.
“True,” replied Aldebaran, his gaze still fixed on the stars.
“You were searching for Seth, right? You were hoping to reconstitute yourself with him. I wish you could have known that he was heading at top speed for the core galaxy. You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble.”
“A lot of Umberians would still be alive as well.”
“If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me, Seth. I’m the one who botched the experiment. I would have worked tirelessly to fix that mistake if not for the invasion. I hope you believe me.”
“It’s not important.”
“It is to me. Despite all of the destruction and loss, the one thing that bothered me the most about the last ten years was my inability to repair your mind. I can blame a lot of things on the Zendreen but not that.”
“I can’t ameliorate your guilt, Professor,” said Aldebaran, meeting his countenance, “no matter how willing I am to accept your apology, if that’s what this is, you can’t ignore the fact that I killed so many innocent people. That blood is on your hands as much as it is mine.”
“I accept responsibility for doing what I did, but I couldn’t have known you’d resort to such measures.”
Aldebaran approached Talvan until he was a single stride away. “Irrelevant. You should have killed me before the Zendreen attacked.”
Before Talvan could object, Aldebaran turned and exited the room. Talvan sighed and slumped into a chair.
“Damn.”
Twenty-four hours later, John walked down the corridor on deck one. He was looking for Aldebaran, and had expected to find him in the cargo hold. Instead, a quick search found him in the lounge area, staring out into space. John sighed and approached him.
“How’s it going?” he said, leaning against the bulkhead.
“This ship is peaceful,” replied Aldebaran. “It feels more like home than anywhere I’ve been for years.”
“I’m glad it makes you happy.”
“I didn’t say that it did. But it does ease my mind.”
The Tarantula Nebula Page 34